Goodbye Deborah Jean.Though I never paid you at all,You had the grace to kill yourselfWhile those about you crawled.They crawled out of your black book.And they whispered into your phone.They hanged you from a rafterAnd made good your dirty name.

And it seems to me you wished your lifeDidn’t vanish in the shed.Never knowing who to sing toWhen the news set in.And I would have liked to have used youFor a goat and sinYour wishes burned out long beforeMy urges ever did…